


The Endless Mind: A Story by Seris

by Makuta_Servaela



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makuta_Servaela/pseuds/Makuta_Servaela
Summary: Seris tells the story of her adventures in the Mortal and Immortal Realms





	1. Chapter 1

The woman looked over her shoulder, startled by the sudden creak of the wooden door. There was another woman standing in the doorway, a slightly older woman with brown hair and wide, scared, sapphire blue eyes. The two stared at each other in silence. The one in the doorway had a look on her face of terror, as if watching a close friend or sibling be ripped from her hands, even though no such action was taking place. Her chest was visible pounding with her harsh breath.

The younger one, the one resting in her bed, was confused. She knew this one watching her, but she couldn’t remember the name. Who was she? Why was this woman watching her? What was she so afra-”

**“Seris.”** The brown-haired woman spoke in a tone much too sharp for her expression, a voice too deep to be her’s. The voice carried an Abyssal Echo.

**“Seris, wake up!”**

Who was Seris? Her name wasn’t Seris, it was...er… what was it? She couldn’t-

Her inner monologue was cut off as the world around her began to shake violently. The brown-haired woman in the doorway was silent and still, as if frozen.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white, then dark. Seris’ sight shifted from one of colour and images, a mortal’s view, to one of shapes and feelings: the kind of sight seen only with “Unseeing Eyes”, as the Abyssal ones tended to call them.

**“Whyever are you sleeping in this ridiculous place?”** Snapped the tall, pale woman standing over her. Seris did not move her head as she glanced at the equally “blind” goddess. 

**“What do you want, Nyx?”** She muttered quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.

The goddess snarled,  **“I’ve been looking for you, and I finally find you in practically the middle of nowhere. You really know how to be a pain, you know that?”**

**“You’re looking for me? What idiot would waste their time doing that?”** Seris snapped. Nyx gave a sharp huff, clenching one hand.

**“I would advise you to speak to me with a bit more respect, my dear Oracle.”** The Goddess hissed in a gentle, yet threatening tone.

Seris stood, observing her surroundings. She had been sleeping on a bench on a small stone platform that hung in the air. The Abyssal Soul Sea stretched to the ends of any view far below. Abyssal towers hung in broken suspension here and there on the horizon. The air was cold and wet, and slithered with life. The Abyss was alive, yes, in the darkest sense of the word.

**“And it took you long to find me?”** Asked Seris, humoured,  **“Why, I am in the one place I hate the most: my home. You should always know to find me here.”** She touched Nyx’s forearm gently with the fingertips of one hand. Suddenly, Nyx snapped her hand up and grabbed Seris’ wrist.

**“Ow. Stop.”** Seris whimpered, pulling away. Nyx did not loose her grip.

**“I actually needed you for something. Come on, aid me as I size-up that imbecile Ra. He has been invading my home with his obnoxious light.”** Spoke the Goddess as she flicked her other hand, creating a portal to the Void.

**“Invading? What would he want with the pathetic portion of the Void you’ve made into your ‘Kingdom of Darkness’? It’s not like it’s anything like the mortal-”** Seris’s rant was cut off as Nyx yanked her close, seizing Seris’s chin with her other hand.

**“You would be wise to be silent.”**

Seris huffed in annoyance as Nyx dragged  her through the portal

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Seris sat back, her knees folded up to her chest. Nyx and Ra and… ugh, too many people… were arguing over something or other nearby. It was pathetic, really- the Void was no place for Gods, yet after the Smite, the few survivors had been trapped in the Cosmos, the Abyss, and the other planes of the Void. Their first move had been to cut it up in ways they saw fit, as if they truly believed that they had the right to lay claim to any of these places. A kingdom of Light here, a kingdom of Darkness there, Gods and Goddesses at eachother’s throats on and on… it was pathetic. Why couldn’t they just… live? Seris lived. When the elements of the Abyss felt like living, they created an Abyss Walker. And here she was, one of many. She had no home but the Abyss itself, no kingdom, no shrines. She just...was. It was so simple to just be, why did no one else understand that? 

She glanced at the arguing beings. Nyx was busy, it seemed. Oh, she’d be upset if Seris snuck off but… why did Seris care? And for that matter, why did Nyx?

It mattered not. Nyx was distracted, Seris wanted someone to talk to- someone who could take her attitude without… 

At least someone who understood an Abyss Walker’s sense of humour. Nyx, it seemed, did not. Seris rubbed her painful wrist gently- blast, there was a mark there, a bruise, she had heard it called. She hadn’t a clue what it was, but knew marks like it appeared after she was harmed.

Seris flicked a wrist, a portal appearing. Back to the Abyss? No, this one led to the Cosmos, a higher part of the Void.

  
  


**“Yes, Seris?”** Jenos did not look up at her. Seris didn’t want to approach for a reason she did not understand. Her… companion, if he could be called that, seemed so tranquil, so peaceful. Jenos’ hands were folded in his lap as he sat in a gentle lotus pose. His mask was on the cloud before him, his eyes were closed, his hair flickered in the non-existent breeze.

**“Do you need something, dear?”** Jenos spoke again.

Seris could not find the words to respond, nor the energy to move. Jenos’s eyes opened, bright and white. The white faded gently until his azure irises and jet black pupils were visible.

**“Come, sit.”** he spoke softly, patting a hand on the spot beside him. Seris moved, but chose a spot across from him instead.

**“Chaos in the Void again?”** he chuckled, watching her. Seris nodded and replied,  **“The Void is chaos. That is what keeps it entertaining.”**

**“Correct my observation, but you do not seem entertained.”** The god mused. Seris did not reply.

He watched Seris, but the AbyssWalker remained silent and unresponsive. After a few quiet moments, Jenos’s eyes closed and he returned to his meditation.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Peace lined the Cosmos, arguments lined the Void. The Abyss was a corrupt, but tranquil place that night.

Ishmael would not have known either way, and nor did he care.

The howling winds of the Everfrost whipped his clothing. His amarok snarled slightly, it’s clawed paws balancing on the ice and rocks. The massive wolf-like creature was built for weather such as this, but even it knew that if the two continued their journey alone in the icy winds, they’d be joining the endless spirits of the Void by the time the sun rose.

Ishmael pulled on the reins, walking his mount to a small cave in the rockside. The amarok seemed relieved as he dismounted and began to remove his packings from its back. It was still and silent until Ishmael had completed his work.

The large man removed a pyrokinetic Ultimate Crystal and whispered it’s callout. The crystal superheated as he dropped it on a rock at the back of the cave. The cave began to warm significantly- heat without the smoke-issues of fire. The amarok gleefully sat by the heatsource, before lowering to sleep. Ishmael used the stone to light a lantern, before returning it to its spot.

 

Ishmael sat at the back of the cave, before fishing through his bookpack. Mostly copies of religious texts filled the leather satchel.

He stroked a hand over his copy of a strange book:  _ The Eternal Pyre. _ Writings of angels and gods and whatnot. He flipped through the old, musty pages. One chapter mentioned some god of the storm from centuries past. The pages were filled with speech of heresy, sin, glory, divinity.

Rubbish, all of it. Yet praying to texts like these granted witches their powers, right? And if he was going to destroy the Winter Witch of the North, he would need to know from where she gained her powers. And this book was not helping.

He surfed through his pack for a book on Ice Elementals. He had one, a small one, and began to read it carefully.

He was alerted by a low growl. The amarok was staring at a back corner of the cave, its golden eyes flaring, its teeth bared. Ishmael snatched his lantern in one hand and his Shard Rifle in the other. He approached the back corner of the cave, only to find it empty. As he neared the cave wall, he felt strangely ice-cold, odd with its proximity to the Pyrokinetic Crystal.

The work of magic? An otherworldly presence? No, no, that’s stupid. 

He turned back to his sitting spot to continue reading. The amarok’s eyes were still glued to the corner, a mixture of hatred and fear in its glare. Ishmael chose to ignore the beast.

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Voices called Seris from the Void, but she found herself disinterested in responding to them. Nyx, most likely. She watched the strange man from her corner of the cave. His beast could sense her presence- of course it could. Wolves could detect spirits, everyone knew that.

The voices in the back of the AbyssWalker’s mind grew stronger. With a grunt of annoyance, she turned into the Void.

Upon exiting her portal, she entered a room with smooth walls and a massive curtained bed. A woman stood off to the opposite side, staring out the closed window of a balcony.

**“Stop running off!”** Nyx snapped.

**“I go where I please.”** Was Seris’ sharp reply.

**“And where were you off to this time?”** The hostility in Nyx’s voice had strangely vanished. The goddess approached the bed and threw off her robe, dressed now only in a nightgown. 

**“Oh, just Mortal-watching, a simple hobby of mine.”** Seris chuckled, moving to sit at the foot of the bed. Nyx crawled under the covers and pulled them up to her chest,  **“Oh? And who is this mortal? The next massacrist? A horrendous Bandit King?”**

Seris chuckled and clicked her tongue,  **“Now, now, that’s not very polite! Why would you think I’d find entertainment watching someone like that?”**

**“Who is he going to kill? I know you enjoy watching slaughter.”** Nyx giggled.

Seris put her hand to her chest in feigned modesty,  **“Then you do not know me! Tsk, slaughter, how aberrant!”**

**“Come, come now. Who is he killing, tell me!”** Nyx insisted

Seris moved to sit at the head of the bed, before responding,  **“Well, if you must know, he is no massacrist, nor a Bandit King, but he will be a murderer. He is a simple man from the North. He’s going to kill someone of power. And…”** Seris eyed the left and right, as if preparing to tell a secret. She leaned in close to whisper in Nyx’s ear.

**“You are going to help him. The action is going to set in motion spectacular events… the likes of which the Realm has never seen.”**

  
  



	2. Chapter 2: A Bright Future for a Dark Mind

  
  
  
  
  


The Void was a quiet place. It tended to be. No matter how much chaos spread through the Abyss, how many screams poured from Hell, how much starshine sang in the Cosmos, how many angels called in the Heavens, the Void remained quiet. Seris liked it like that.

Too much… to much noise lately, too many annoying people, Seris liked getting away from it all sometimes. Her fingertips brushed across the cold skin on her neck, touching- was that blood? Blast, it was, and it was going to get all over her nice, clean cloak. She cursed silently under her breath as a portal flicked itself into existence. Peace and quiet were going to have to wait, it seemed.

Seris stepped through the portal into the Realm of Existence. Such a strange place it was. A land with finite boundaries, where things just… made sense. How revolting!

It was a forest in which she had seemed to have deposited herself. The rush of water currents sounded from nearby, the flutter of birds filled the air. She stepped over the dry dirt and soft grass as she made her way down to the stony riverside. She lowered her blindfold and took off her hood as she knelt on the sand and pebbles. Unseeing eyes could see no reflections in the waves, but she did not need to know what she looked like. She knew she had skin as white as snow. She knew she had eyes a brilliant violet. She knew her white skin was stained with brown and purple and green along her right cheek- she could not see the bruise, but she could feel its heat. She knew there were small red knicks and welts along her neck, and apparently they were bleeding, if only slightly. She lifted a handful of the cold river water and splashed it on her face and neck.

There was movement behind her, footsteps. A low gasp.

Seris felt out the air around her. Unseeing eyes did not see in such limited vision as boring mortal eyes did, after all. She did not turn to face the man as she observed him: Long dark hair, an old, tired face, simple clothing, and carrying a large rifle.

“Are you a nymph?” Spoke the gruff voice with a Cobalt accent.

 **“And, if I am?”** replied Seris, continuing to wash her wounds.

“Why are you here?” The voice spoke quickly.

 **“Because this is where I am.”** Seris replied, lifting her blindfold and hood again. She stood slowly, turning to the man. She could not see his eyes, but she knew they were trailing her. His mind was filled with shock and curiosity and… fear? Why, she had not threatened him yet, why would he fear her?

There was a magical aura around him, like the signature of an enchanted being… a curse, that was it. This man was cursed.

 **“Hmmm, meddling with the immortal? Not the brightest hobby.”** She chuckled. The man took a step back, snapping, “I don’t want any trouble.”

Seris took a step toward him. He remained still.

 **“Well then, what is your name, mortal?”**  Seris spoke in a slight monotone.

“L-lord Arturos… Greenwood.” He replied, “Now back off, I’ve had enough problems with people like you recently.”

 **“I could lift that curse of yours.”** Seris mused.

Arturos shook his head, “No, I’d owe you something, isn’t that how it works? I want nothing to do with anymore magic.”

 **“Very well.”** Seris replied with a chuckle, **“You are a wise one. It is unfortunate that your daughter will not be so wise.”** She was already vanishing into a portal, uninterested in Arturos’ response, although no doubt it was one of shock.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

It was a shame really. Seris often enjoyed her musings of the peace and quiet of the Void. It was really just too bad that the Void had not been quiet in a long time.

Everything felt so… off today. It took Seris a long moment to realise that the current time in which she stood was not her present day. A time long in the future, it seemed.

The Immortal Realms were in an uproar, why was that?

And why did Seris feel happy?

She was never happy anymore, yet in this vision of the future, she was happy. Things were going her way. There were people who cared about her, people who loved her, people who would come to her aid if she called them. She had never felt that kind of peace before.

She stood in a dark, ruined castle. It seemed vaguely familiar, as if it was… a place in which she had had many fond memories, and many more dark ones. There was a man standing nearby, looking out through a massive gap in the wall. He was a… a friend, wasn’t he? Did she have friends? It seemed like she did. He wore black and white, and his face was covered by a white mask adorned with twin black horns. A Shadow Witch’s mask, but he was no Shadow Witch. She turned from him to step over the cool, marble flooring. The fingers of one hand brushed over the pale, detailess walls She came to the foot of a staircase. This place… it felt wrong. There was something wrong with it.

There was a sorrow connected to this place, this spot at the foot of the stairs. Why would a place like this cause her such distress?

**“Seris?”**

Oh, not now, not again. She was dreaming. She much liked this dream, she did not want to wake up.

**“Seris? Are you hurt?”**

As a matter of fact, yes, she was hurt. Her body ached, her limbs were sore now. She had not felt like that a moment ago.

**“Seris, I am so sorry, it was an accident, I swear it!”**

Seris could no longer see anything. That cold marble floor was touching so much of her body… she was on the ground. Why was she on the ground? Her body was sore, her brow was wet and burning, and she was on the cold floor. Frigid fingers brushed Seris’ shoulder.

**“Oh, please get up! You are okay, you are okay!”**

Seris pushed off of the ground. There was something warm dripping down her face from a stinging spot on her forehead. The frigid fingers retracted, before a pair of hands clasped Seris shoulders. The Oracle felt as if her heart was pounding in her chest. What had happened? She couldn’t remember. There had been raised voices, she had felt frightened, and then…

Seris’ sightless eyes gazed to the top of the staircase, where she and Nyx had been arguing… it had become so heated…

Nyx was kneeling beside Seris. The goddess pulled the Oracle into a hug, muttering something under her breath. Seris tried to push Nyx away, gasping an ignored denial. Nyx held her cheek to Seris’s.

 **“I… you need to be careful next- you can’t start things with me, you know that.”** Nyx spoke softly, **“It’s-it’s alright, you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”** She seemed so calm now, so gentle. Seris felt anything but calm or gentle.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

The water was cold. Seris liked cold.

The bathwater had been very warm some time ago, but Seris had lost track of how long she had been resting in the water. Her limbs were not sore anymore, the gash on her head was well treated. The- whatever Nyx called her minions- had done a very good job treating and caring for Seris.

She wanted nothing more than to be in the Abyss right now, alone, like she preferred to be. Whyever had she let herself get talked into… this? Socialization? People? Morbid, all of it. She was better off when she was alone. When she was alone, there was no one to care. When she was alone, there was no one to hurt her.

Seris stepped out of the bath water and gently dried off with a soft, fluffy towel from the hanging rack. She slipped on a gentle robe and left the room, not bothering to clean up after herself.

She moved through the castle halls silently. The cold floor felt good on her toes. She entered the bedroom, pausing to take in her surroundings. There was a sleeping form in the King-sized bed.

The Oracle slipped under the covers. The comforter was warm and a cool breeze flowed through the open window by the balcony. The form beside Seris shifted slightly. The Void sounded peaceful outside the castle. Seris did not want to be anywhere else at the moment. She felt at peace.

And it felt wrong.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Well, the quiet was nice while it lasted.

Two young boys ran through the door, both screaming in inaudible rage. Evanthia sighed and touched her fore- well, she wanted to touch her forehead, but her mask was in the way.

“What is it?” She turned to the boys. Neither was older than 10.

“He pushed me!” cried one.

“He started it!” cried the other.

“Where is your nurse? Mummy’s busy, you know that.” Evanthia sighed, placing a hand on each of her sons’ shoulders. At the mention of the nurse, both boys looked at the floor. Evanthia eyed them, although her glare could not be seen from behind the emerald-coloured lenses of her mask.

“She’s with Eibhlyn… that’s why I pushed him, he pulled her hair.” Her son muttered quietly.

Evanthia stood and moved past her sons and out of the room. Her long black and white dress trailed on the steep staircase as she left her tower for the first time in weeks. A witch’s life was often a solitary life, it seemed. It was why Evanthia had tried to fill that solitude with children, but her five boys and two girls were just not enough to fill the void.

The nurse was in the room at the bottom of the stairs, tending to a wailing child. Eibhlyn, a tiny girl with the same raven hair as her mother, was huddled to the nurse’s chest, tears streaming down her face. Evanthia knelt to take the child from the nurse. As she stroked her daughter’s hair, a chill ran through her spine. The shadows called out to the witch, crying an echo of sorrow. She gazed into the jet black strands of hair as the shadows spoke to her from the lands beyond the physical realm. A great danger was coming. She was in danger. Her children were in danger. She would not stand for this. The Shadow Witch of the North would not fall.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Blast, the future was such a pain sometimes. Seris had been trying to catch a glimpse of that future she had found, the one where she was happy. So far, she had had no luck. Maybe it was simply an alternate timeline? No, no, it had felt too real. If only she could just get one more peek at-

**“Seris?”**

The Oracle sighed and glanced at the newcomer, a fellow of Seris’ species.

 **“What do you want, Wekono?”** Seris snapped irritably.

Wekono frowned, clearly not used to such a tone.

 **“First of all- you know what, nevermind. Anyway, I assume you’ve seen the darkness on the horizon?”** Wekono hissed.

Seris shook her head, **“I cannot say that I have. I have been too busy _not_ meddling in other people’s business for once, can you believe it? I have my own life. Shocking”**

Wekono was not amused, **“I’m serious, Seris. There is something big coming, everything from witchdoctors to warlocks to the spirits themselves are in fear. Find out what it is.”**

 **“No.”** Was Seris’ curt reply.

**“Why?”**

**“As I have mentioned, I have my own problems to deal with.”** Seris huffed.

**“Seris, the Immortal Realm could be in danger for all you know!”**

**“I do, and it is.”** Seris cut her eyes. Although they were hidden behind her blindfold, she knew the Mother of Sorrow and Revenge could sense the expression, **“Do you really think something like this would escape my sight? It’s a possible future, one that’s turning point is coming soon. Whatever might set it into motion, I care not. But some imbecile _might_ horrifically muck something up, and whatever darkness everyone’s been whining about _might_ happen. Might. And I care not whether or not it will. Now leave me be.” **Seris finished by crossing her arms and giving an annoyed pout. Wekono’s breath was sharp as she glared at Seris with slit pupils. The two watched each other for several long, silent moments, before Wekono finally turned to storm off. Seris returned to her work. She had a blissful possible future to find, after all. Maybe she would finally be happy. And maybe this darkness that everyone had been mewling about would be a part of it.


	3. Chapter 3: The Future Begins

 

 **“Seris, you’re never going to be able to meditate if you do not relax.”** Jenos sighed. It was rather hard to meditate with him talking, she felt like snapping, but chose against it. He was politely trying to show her how he managed to relax, the least she could do was show some miniscule bit of courtesy. Or at least not show impudence. Even if such a feat was painful for-

 **“Seris, stop.”** He cut off her inner monologue, **“You aren’t relaxing.”**

Seris grunted softly. A touch on her hip shocked her, and she opened her eyes, her “Unseeing” view coming to her. It was Jenos’ hand, gently resting on her skin. His hand was warm. He was looking at her, his eyes meeting hers.

 **“What.”** Seris muttered.

 **“Relax.”** He spoke in a tone much too soft to be his.

 **“Easy for you to say.”** She snapped, **“All you do is sit and think and relax! You don’t have to deal with anything or anyone!”** She jumped to her feet. This was clearly getting her nowhere.

Jenos floated upward gently, before letting his feet drop below him. He reached out and softly stroked the fingertips of one hand from the back of her right hand to her upper arm, **“It might help if you talk about it.”** He spoke, a bit more firmness in his voice.

 **“What is there to talk about?”** Seris wanted to sound angry, but it just came out sounding tired.

Jenos moved in front of her, looking her up and down slowly. He moved a hand to her hood and pushed it away from her head until it dropped loosely on her back. It had fallen so easily… It wasn’t supposed to do that, why didn’t it catch on her hair? Did she have hair? Why didn’t she have hair, what had happened to her-

 **“Oh, dear.”** He muttered under his breath. He was frowning- had she upset him? What had she- wait, why did she care if-

 **“Seris.”** He cut off her inner monologue again. He touched the back of his fingers to her cheek- blast, that hurt! Why did that hurt?

 **“How long have you had that mark?”** He asked, concern growing in his voice.

 **“What mark?”** She replied as the memories returned to her. She hated how difficult it was for her to remember things. The mark- it was a bruise, wasn’t it? Yes, of course it was.

 **“If you’d rather not say how you’ve obtained it, I won’t ask.”** Jenos spoke gently, **“But know that I am very aware of its origin.”**

Seris pulled her hood back over her head. Secrets were obnoxiously hard to keep in the Immortal Realms, it seemed.

 **“No Seris, I didn’t use-”** Jenos spoke, but Seris wasn’t listening. She was irritated at how easy it was to sneak into someone’s- **“Seris, I-”** Was she really that much of an open book? It made her feel- **“Seris, stop.”** like she wasn’t as unique and special as- **“Seris, listen to me!”** Were- were his hands on her upper arms? Yes, yes they were. She was touching him!- or, no wait, he was touching her. He was holding her arms, whyever would he do that? Was… what was she thinking of? Her inner monologue was drawing a blank… why?… He was looking at her, that was probably what was doing it. He had that look in his eyes, she liked that look. It was the look of someone who cared about her. Not many people had that look in their eyes. Jenos did. Sometimes Nyx did, but only after… Nyx really only ever had that look after…

 **“This cannot continue.”** Jenos spoke, holding her cheek in his palm, **“People who care about you don’t hurt you.”**

Seris was still, levitating gently before Jenos.

 **“You need to do something.”** He continued. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a memory flicked into Seris’ mind- no, not a memory- a vision. A vision of the future. The event that everyone was speaking of, the one that would throw the entire Immortal Realm apart.

 **“Yes… yes, I need to do something- I will do something.”** It was the first time in a long time that she had spoken in full confidence. As she uttered each word slowly, Jenos’ expression turned from one of calm comfort, to one of fear.

 **“Seris, what are you planning?!… that isn’t what I-”** But she could not hear the rest of his panicked cry. She was already vanishing back into the Void. She had an evening to prepare. She wanted everything just perfect.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------

 

The winds howled, they always howled. It was what told Ishmael that the skies of Everfrost were alive- hell knows the birdsongs didn’t. There were no bird songs- what stupid birds would fly in this land?

He had to stay focused. His goal was a kingdom, far from here. It was once a small town of gentle people. After the Winter Witch of the North had finished freezing them all solid, she had proceeded to create her own little ice fortress in which to reside. She had destroyed this town, she had killed innocent people. So had she in Ishmael’s hometown, and she would finally pay, after all this time. She would pay for every life she had ever taken, for every infant she had left without a mother, for everything she had destroyed in her boredom. So swore Ishmael “The Witch Hunter”.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

The supper was perfect, a delicious horse foal, cooked to perfection! Well, okay, not really cooked. At least it was dead… sort of. Dying, bleeding out on the table, moaning in agony… close enough, right? Seris wasn’t very good at cooking. She hoped Nyx wouldn’t mind that she had borrowed that beloved candlestick that the goddess was so fond of. She needed candles, didn’t she? A candlelit dinner needed candles. And it was an excuse to get Nyx in the room anyway.

She could hear the goddess romping around upstairs, she’d be down shortly in search of her beloved candlestick. Seris hoped she had a few moments longer, just to make sure everything was right. A nice glass of wine for Seris, a glass of wine for- blast, the horse had kicked over Seris’s glass! It had shattered all over the floor! Er, Seris could deal with that later, she decided as she used her powers to brush the glass under the dining room rug. She needed the horse to stop kicking, maybe just by using a touch of her abilities to break its leg a bit- no, that just took the leg off. Now the horse was very loud. It needed to not do that. Maybe if she just lifted it’s head up a bit- oops, necks aren’t supposed to twist like that. Well, at least the horse was dead.

 **“Seris… what are you doing?”** Ah, here was Nyx, entering the room.

Seris turned to her with a smile, motioning toward her… what she assumed could be called a candlelit dinner.

 

Seris and Nyx had a good evening. Perfect, Nyx was nice and comfortable. It would make Seris’ plan all the more entertaining. As Nyx’s servants moved to carry the rest of the meal off of the table and clean the mess that the oracle and goddess had left behind, Seris and Nyx retired to the bedroom.

 **“Whatever is the occasion?”** Asked Nyx, changing into a nightgown.

 **“I thought I might make you feel better, is all.”** Seris chimed as she sat on the bed, her legs kicking slowly off the side.

 **“Feel better? What do you mean?”** The goddess looked over her shoulder at her companion.

 **“Oh, silly me, I haven’t told you yet, have I?”** Seris feigned shock, **“I’m so sorry, my dear, you know me and my silly old mind. I thought I had already told you, and you were already distraught!”**

 **“Distraught? What are you talking about?”** Nyx approached the bed, watching Seris with a stern look on her “blind” silver eyes.

**“Oh, I really haven’t told you about your death? How could I have forgotten? Blast my stupid-”**

**“My death?!”** Nyx cut her off, **“What do you mean, ‘my death’?”**

Seris looked up at Nyx with an innocent gaze, **“Oh, you’ve spoiled the surprise: You’re going to die!”**

Nyx’s face was distorted with a look of utter horror as she slowly spoke, **“Seris… that isn’t funny at all.”**

Seris shook her head, **“Not a joke.”**

Nyx stood still for a few moments, before heavily sitting on the bed. She stammered, **“H-how? How do I die?”**

 **“Nyx, honey! You don’t want to spoil it more!”** Seris exclaimed. She crawled over to where Nyx was sitting and began to gently rub the goddess's shoulders, **“Here, now I have to make you feel better all over again.”**

 **“Seris!”** Nyx looked at the oracle over her shoulder, **“Please… I… I just want to know something little, tell me something little about it… about… you know.”**

Seris clicked her tongue, **“Tsk tsk, what a naughty girl! Trying to spoil the surprise more, peek under the wrapping paper, hmm? Very well, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll tell you a little riddle. Be good, and I’ll tell you another.”**

Nyx watched Seris attentively. Seris leaned in close and whispered into the goddess’s ear,

**“You shatter upon impact.”**

 


	4. Chapter 4: The Oracle, The God, and The Witch

 

In a bed, in a room, in a small house on the outskirts of the Citadel, a young boy sighed, holding his pen so tightly that his knuckles were white, an odd feat given the almost snow white paleness for which was the rest of him. In his lap was a book of spelling words. Spelling was a job for scribes, why did he have to learn it? Commonfolk didn’t need spelling or reading or math, and his parents went along their days fine despite their inability in at least the first two.   
  
He threw the book aside and rested his head back on the wooden headboard of his bed. He wished he didn’t have to go to school nearly every day. Lessons were hard, and he didn’t have any friends. Some days, he’d spend hours in the trash-cans in which he had been shoved by the bullies. The worst was the day he had tried to stand up to a group of kids who planned on robbing the bakery next door. He had to do something, he knew, so he had rushed to tell the Lawman on the street corner. The kids had seen him do it. The didn’t rob the bakery that day. Instead, they spent the afternoon tying him to a bridgepost and hitting and kicking him. He still had bruises.   
  
Why couldn’t he be a smith like his father? His father could teach him, and he wouldn’t have to deal with other kids.   
  
_ “We put in good money so you can have a proper education. Stop whining and finish your homework. _ ” His father had said anytime he complained.   
  
He rose from his bed and reached under the straw-filled mattress. There was one upside, he had found, to learning how to read. He pulled a large, dark book from under the mattress and threw it on his quilt. He sat next to it and opened the hard surface.   
  
There were big words, but he had learned to read enough of them. He had purchased this book with four months worth of allowance: a book on Shadow Witchcraft. Only magically-embedded sorcerers could truly perform magic, but it was fun to pretend he could, that he was a great wizard who could perform amazing spells anytime he wanted.   
  
He read one of the incantations as best he could… was that a “p” or a “q”? He was fairly sure he was pronouncing it right. This spell could create a limb of shadow that could grab things. He imagined a great limb appearing before him and throwing his school books across the room. He flipped to a page of Shadow Travel and read the incantation slowly. The incantation was a long one, and filled most of the page. He flipped through a few more pages, past the pages that had been ripped out by older kids last time he had brought his spellbook to school. He finally ended on a page of… “Summoning a ... “ He couldn’t tell what the last word was. It looked like “family”, but you couldn’t summon a family, that didn’t make sense. And the word had an “r” at the end…   
  
Ah well. The boy read the incantation slowly.   
  
Suddenly, there was a flash in his room, followed by the appearance of a dark crack in the air. An otherworldly portal! That wasn’t supposed to happen! He didn’t actually have magic… did he?   
  
**“Hello, Child.”** spoke a deep, woman’s voice. The woman who most-likely owned this voice stepped from the portal, which closed behind her. She wore a hood and matching dress, and her skin was nearly as pale as his. Half of her face, including her eyes, was covered by a dark grey cloth. In one hand she held a strange thing that looked like a torch carrier hanging from a chain, and from within this rested an ornately carved sphere.   
  
“W-who are you?” he asked in a shaking tone. The woman glanced at him, her head cocked slightly. There was a book resting beside him (he was standing by the bed now) and it was open to a page on… blast, ink was hard to read for one who could see in shapes, not images. She paused time for a moment (ironically) while she tried to decipher the shape of the ink on the pages… “Summoning...a...familiar”. How entertaining!   
  
“You have summoned me, young spellcaster.” She told the child, dropping the Abyssal Echo in her voice. “A familiar, you have called.”   
  
“What’s a familiar?” The child asked.   
  
“A friend.” Was Her response as she dropped to a knee to rest at his eye-level. “What is your name, spellcaster?” She asked, pretending as if she did not already know the answer.   
  
“I’m Androxus.” He spoke, his tone low and cautious, “You can call me Andro I guess, most people do.”   
“You may call me Seris.” She responded, smiling.   
“I’ve heard that word before.” Andro said, his eyes lighting, “It’s a city, isn’t it?”   
Seris smiled slightly, before shaking her head, “Was it a city? Is it a city?”

“I think it’s just south of the Frozen Mountains. I’ve heard it is the home to-”

Seris cut him off with a hiss, “Never bother, never bother.”   
“Why don’t my other spells work?” Andro asked, watching her curiously.   
“How should I know? You’re the spellcaster.” Seris chuckled, moving to sit on the bed. Andro climbed up beside her and opened his spellbook on his lap. “Can you read to me?”   
“I’m not much a reader. Let’s do something else.” She replied.   
“Do you want to play with my action figures? I’ve got all the coolest Paladins… Well, my Karne doesn’t have his head… some kids pulled it off and threw it in the river.”   
“Let me see it.” Seris offered. Andro jumped down from the bed and fetched a box of toys from the corner of the room. It was filled with wooden action figures, painted in white and silver armour. Some resembled the greatest Stagalla warriors, others resembled knights, and still more appeared to be goblins and dragons and other creatures.   
  
He fished out a figure of a broken knight with a crystal staff, before handing it to Seris. She turned the figure in her hand, observing the broken wood where part of the figures chest, neck, and head had been snapped off. She placed it on her lap and stroked the air before her Orb, absorbing power from it, before picking the figure back up. The shadow enveloped it and formed the shape of the missing parts, before setting into the figure, changing colour, and hardening. The figure appeared as if it had never been broken. Andro snatched it back, a look of amazement in his eyes. “Woah, thanks!” He chirped, before dropping off of his bed and running the character along the ground. Seris selected a figure and sat beside him on the ground, watching with amusement as Andro narrated and played out some grand battle that the Paladins had fought in against some evil dragon.

  
  
  
  
  


The pale boy slept, curled into his covers with a gentle and calm smile on his lips. He and Seris had played for hours, until finally he had exhausted. Seris sighed: If she could stay in this happy future, she would. But alas, she must return to the present time, a time where that happiness would be a ways away. She bent over the sleeping boy and gently kissed his cheek, before parting back into the Immortal Realm.

 

\-----------------------------

 

**“Seris, may I ask you something?”**

Seris lifted her fingertips off the raised print of the book in her lap. Her wineglass floated beside her, already half empty. Nyx sat across from her in the library of the Umbrium kingdom, where the two were sitting and reading. Seris raised her face to Nyx.

**“A riddle, you have another for me, yes?”** Nyx asked hopefully.

Seris chuckled,  **“Trying to discover your cause of death again? Really, you musn’t be such a naughty girl.”** She replied.

**“No, no, you see, I enjoy a mind game. You enjoy mind games, and you have one for me, I would rather like the second ri- clue, as it were.** ”

Seris smiled. Of course she could see through Nyx’s lie: The goddess was afraid, what a pity! Seris was looking forward to her game: if Nyx could torment Seris with her violence, Seris could torment Nyx right back!

The Oracle took a sip of wine, sensing Nyx’s blind eyes glued to her in eager. Finally, Seris spoke,  **“You are killed by Frozenguard.”**

 

\-----------------------------------

  
  


  
  


Andro sat under the shade of the apple tree at the edge of the school courtyard. He would sit here every afternoon, sometimes with his toys, sometimes with his spellbook, but usually, with nothing. Anyone else observing would see him playing or reading or talking to himself. No one but he could see the tall, pale lady who sat with him everyday, eager to hear his reading skills, play Paladins with him, or simply hold a conversation. It had been several months since Seris had first met Andro. She’d visit him every day now and spent time with him, always eager to make his company, as he was to make hers.

This day, he was excitedly telling the story of how a great Paladin defeated a swarm of evil soldiers single-handedly to save a village of innocent Leipori.

Seris sat with her arms around her legs and her knees folded to her chest, happily listening. She had witnessed this battle first hand, and the story Andro knew made the Paladin sound much more noble than the actual occurrence. But, there was nothing wrong with letting a child dream.

“Seris, why do you have the name of a city?” Andro asked, his eyes shining with his question.

“Perhaps a city has the name of me?” Seris chuckled.

“I think the city was here first. It’s very old and you look very young.” Andro responded.

“Why thank you.” Seris replied, “I do try to keep my figure. And besides, when I came into being, there was no city of Seris.”

“You really came into being before it was founded?” 

“I came into being after it was destroyed.”

“The city was destroyed?” Andro asked.

“It will be, someday. And it will be spectacular. Of course it will be, it birthed me, after all.” Was Seris’ response.

“Who are you talking to, witch?” Snapped a voice. Andro and Seris looked up to see a nasty looking boy with a glare in his eye.

“Leave me alone.” Andro replied, frowning. Several other kids approached, a few with their arms crossed.

“What are you gonna do, cast a spell on me?” One of the kids snapped. Andro looked away, his face red.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!” The child grabbed Andro’s shirt and pulled him up. Seris watched on, frowning. Should she intervene? Should the other kids know of-

“Seris, help me!”

Seris stared at Andro, who looked back at her. The other children looked at the spot where she sat, but she knew they could not see her. They looked back at him and laughed.

“Witch-boy’s got an imaginary friend!” Stated the one who held his shirt. He reeled his fist back for a punch. Andro shut his eyes.

The fist never made contact.

“If you don’t get out of here.” Growled a male voice, “I’ll tell the teacher on you… or, if you’d like… I can deal with you myself.”

Seris was surprised… okay, that was a lie… but she pretended to be. Andro wouldn’t need her anymore, not for a long time. She vanished into the shadows as the events unfolded.

 

Andro opened his eyes to see another boy, his fist around the bully’s wrist, his crystal-blue eyes burning. The bully did not release Andro, but another reached for the newcomer. The boy flicked the hand that held the bully’s fist in an odd motion, causing the bully to shriek in pain and drop Andro. With a quick move, he had slammed a fist into the second bully’s stomach, before shoving that one into the first.

Just before a third could grab him, the schoolbell rang. They looked between each other, before retreating, chanting how “this isn’t over”.

“Thanks.” Andro muttered, brushing his shirt off.

“Don’t mention it.” The boy responded, “Kids like that… they only do what they do because they know they can get away with it. The trick is not to let them think that.” He winked, before holding out a hand to shake, “And by the way, I’m Lex.”

 

\-----------------------

 

He was going to say it. He was going to say it-

**“You really shouldn’t mess with time so much, the consequences could be dire. You know that.”**

He said it.

Jenos always thought he knew more than Seris, and about many things he did. But Time? Time was her thing, how dare he act like he can criticise-

**“Seris, are you listening to me? What have you done, what changes of time have you made? I know you have been spending time in possible futures.”**

Seris did not respond. Jenos sounded cross, she did not like making him cross. When Wekono was cross, she’d yell and complain. When Nyx was cross, she’d hit. But when Jenos was cross… he would get that tone, the disappointed one. Seris hated it, it bit harder than Wekono’s whining or Nyx’s palm. Seris did not like disappointing Jenos, she felt as if he were her only real friend, and she was eager not to lose him.

She had noticed he was no longer speaking… he had probably noticed that she was not paying attention.

**“I am thinking of returning to my monastery.”** He spoke, more to himself than to her.

**“If you do that, visiting you might be difficult.”** Seris replied quietly.

**“Nonsense, you are welcome any time.** ” Jenos chuckled,  **“My monks may be a bit shocked, but I will tell them that you are a friend, and they will welcome you with open arms.** ”

**“Don’t leave.”** Seris muttered.

**“Not for a time, but soon, within the next few of the mortal decades. I cannot wait to be back.”** He replied gently.

**“Why would you want to go back there anyway?”**

**“I miss my home.”** Was his response.

**“What’s there to miss?”** She turned to him.

**“Curiosity… excitement… sadness… regret… yearn for knowledge…”** The god sighed,  **“And of course, a nice, hot cup of green tea and a bowl of steamed rice.”**

  
  


\-------------------------------

  
  


**“What are you thinking about?”**

What… what had Seris been thinking about? How queer is it, that anytime that question is asked of one, one can never remember what they were thinking of before the question is-

**“Seris? Are you still awake?”**

Seris grunted and shuffled slightly, listening as the covers moved around her. Her head rested on Nyx’s bosom as she listened to the goddess’s heartbeat. After a moment of silence, she answered the question,  **“Yes, I am still awake.** ”

**“I-is there another riddle?”**

Seris crawled up on to Nyx, sitting on the goddess’ hips.

**“Alright, alright, one more riddle. And a clue. The riddle is this: You can save yourself, by accepting your fate. And the clue?”** Seris flicked her wrist, Abyssal powers swirling around her fingers. A shape appeared between the two, a white mask adorned with green lens eyes and twin black horns.

 

  
 


	5. Chapter Five: A Hunter and a Huntress

The winds whipped snow outside the window of the icy tower. The sharp snap of ice and snow clashing across the stone walls could not be heard by the mages in the windowed room. Five men and two women surrounded a circular table, their hands raised as they chanted quietly. Witches of the Winter and Frost, carefully working together to cast a spell on the winds outside, intent on speaking to the spirits of the rising blizzard. The head of the witches, Kodiak, archmage of Stonebriar, felt a disturbance in the air. There was a threat, although close or far, he could not tell. He opened his eyes, looking around the room. The other witches were deep in their trance, unable to notice that something was amiss. Kodiak stepped away from the table, only slightly noticing the small twitches of the fellow witches as they sensed a change in the magical energies surrounding them.

He could hear a sound, just barely, over the howling winds and quiet chants. A thumping, slow and rhythmic. Kodiak stepped to the sole door of the room and placed his ear against the cold wood. Yes, there was a thumping, very faint, but certainly present. With each moment, the thumps became louder, their creator getting closer. Kodiak turned back to the group. He approached the table and reached out to one of the present witches, intent on waking her from her trance. Something was wrong here, this place was not safe for the ritual.

Before his hand reached her shoulder, the door slammed open with a bang. A violet crystal pierced through the chest of a young male mage, who collapsed to the ground with a cry of surprise. Before Kodiak could respond, the man in the doorway had shot a crystal into each of the mage’s bodies, using a dark crystal rifle. Finally the man shot a crystal into Kodiak’s arm. As soon as the crystal entered Kodiak’s flesh, he felt his magic drain away. The archmage collapsed to the floor, groaning and holding his burning arm.

“Where is she?” The newcomer snarled.

“W-who are you?” Kodiak breathed as he cowered on the floor, feigning weakness in an attempt to distract the man as he tried to draw upon his powers. The magic would not come to him. Kodiak looked up at the man, only to be blinded by the smash of the man’s rifle against his temple.

“The Winter Witch Evie, you will tell me everything you know about her.” The man snarled, dropping to a knee beside the dazed archmage. Kodiak grunted in pain as rough fingers dug into his hair and lifted his head, bringing his eyes to match the man’s gaze. The man had dark hair and cold, violet eyes.

“Tell me about her. From where does her power come? What is her quest? Where is she?” The man spoke sharply, pronouncing each word carefully.

Kodiak gasped out a breath. Harshly, quietly, he began to speak.

  
  
  


Ishmael kicked the weak body of the archmage aside. He had the information he needed, and no longer required this mage. As he stepped away from the heaving Kodiak, he paused, turned, and fired one shot, two, three, into the archmage’s body. As the fired crystals landed close together in the archmage’s flesh, the crystals began to flash, pink lightning striking between them. Their power activated, and their proximity caused them to surge power. Ishmael stepped out of the room as the power of the crystals in the different bodies merged. He slowly shut the great wooden door, breathing slowly as the power exploded, clearing any remnants of Ishmael’s slaughter.

  
  
  


Seris drew her hand back from the swirling energies before her, grunting in annoyance. She had attempted to return to the future realm, the one where she could play with the child Andro, but she found herself unable. That future was too close now, Andro was only five or so years of age in the proper timeline. He would not meet her for the first time for quite a few years. She stepped away from the streaming energies as her hands clasped around her arms. Harsh bricks around her faded away into pale walls, and these faded even further to dark trees and misty air. The Mortal Realm, in all of its strangeness. The grass underfoot was sharp and the soil was damp. Seris’ feet lifted off the ground as she allowed her momentum to lead her levitation. This was a future, a long, far future, Andro would be far into adulthood in this one. Perhaps she should find him? No, she was not close to him at all.

There was a feeling in her abdomen, blast, which one was this? Mortal bodies were so confusing at times, pained at one moment, exhausted at others, bleeding profusely for no apparent reason out of nether regions… why must AbyssWalkers live through this awful phase of possessing physical bodies before they could pupate and evolve into Abyssal Lords?

She believed this one was hunger, she would require sustenance. Mortal bodies… there were only some things that could sustain a mortal body, many things poisoned them.

The abyssal entity wandered in search of something which it could use to sustain itself. She entered a clearing in the woods, aligned with what appeared to be camping equipment: tents, packs, and a recently killed firespot. She pulled the door clasp of the tent aside, allowing her “unseeing” view to scan the tent’s contents. A bedroll and clothing, nothing edible to mortal humans.

She continued on to the pouches and packs. Nothing edible in the first one, only coins. In the second were crossbow bolts. The third- aha! Food!

Seris sat beside the pack and pulled out the first thing she could find- a sandwich, she believed this was called. As she began to eat, she was interrupted by a gasp of surprise.

“Hello?”

Seris ignored the mortal and continued chewing.

Her “Unseeing” view picked up a mortal human woman, who quickly approached and snatched the sandwich from Seris’ hands before the Oracle could respond.

**“Give it.”** Seris snarled.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” Spoke the woman in a Cobalt accent. Seris rose to her feet, watching the mortal from behind her blindfold.

“Hello?” The mortal continued. Seris clenched her fist, and the forest drained away from around the two, leaving both women standing in the Void. The mortal was surprisingly unphased.

“Bring me home this instant.” The woman said firmly.

This mortal was a brave one, Seris had to give her that.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” The woman crossed her arms. Seris’ hand released, and the two returned to the forest.

**“You clearly have not learned manners in terms of courting Immortals.”** Seris spoke plainly.

“Immortals do what they please, I’d rather not waste my time trying to please them if they’re going to curse innocent people anyway.” The woman replied.

Seris folded her hands behind her back,  **“Angered the Immortals, have we? Do tell.”**

The woman glared. She returned the sandwich to its pouch, before facing Seris once more. As soon as the woman’s gaze had returned to Seris, the Oracle carefully began to use her power to levitate the sandwich out of the pouch.

“I haven’t done anything. But you’re immortal, right? You should be able to pick up on curses.”

Seris momentarily pulled her focus away from levitating the sandwich past the woman. She read the woman’s soul, but found no trace of any curse.

**“How were you cursed? I must know.”** Seris chuckled, curious as to why the woman thought she was cursed.

“My father angered a goddess a long time ago.” The woman responded, “Wekono, I believe. According to the curse, if he or any of his family fight outside of Greenwood, our home, Greenwood will be struck by a horrible plague. I didn’t do anything, but I suffer the curse as well.”

Seris once again searched the woman’s soul… no, no curse. She recognised the nature of this curse, the proper one belonged to a Lord Arturos Greenwood, but this woman- Lady Cassiopeia Greenwood, according to her soul- had no trace of a similar curse.

**“And the goddess-”** Seris cringed at the thought of referring to Wekono as a goddess,  **“told you that you were cursed as well?”**

“Well, no, my father told me.” Cassiopeia responded.

Seris was confused. She recalled the curse carefully, trying to remember its rules… Arturos was cursed, if he were to initiate in non-self-defensive combat in a location outside of Greenwood, his home would be plagued… Wekono’s way of forcing him into retirement from his position as a military commander due to some accident that had happened under his supervision. There was an exception, however: Arturos had a daughter. If this daughter were to be in danger outside of Greenwood at any point before her 19th birthday, the curse would allow Arturos to fight to save her. This woman before Seris must be that daughter. And according to her soul, she was older than 19. Perhaps… had Arturos lied to her, in order to keep her from leaving the area in which he was allowed to protect her? How devilishly clever. And now this poor girl believed she was cursed.

**“I know Wekono personally… she is quite the irritable one.”** Seris chuckled. Cassiopeia watched her. The woman cast a small glance to the sandwich that was levitating past her foot. She snatched it and returned it to the pouch, causing a groan of irritation from Seris.

“Immortals don’t talk to Mortals just because they’re hungry.” Cassiopeia stated, unaware at how incorrect her statement was currently, “You clearly want something else, and I suppose you won’t leave until you get it. What do you want?”

Seris was not going to get past this one, was she? Ah, very well, she will play the mortal’s game.

**“The future requires you.”** Seris stated, attempting to sound mature and mystical,  **“You will not carry out your destiny trapped in this place.”**

“Have you come to lift my curse?” Cassiopeia asked.

**“Hmm… yes, Cassiopeia, I believe-”**

“Cassie.”

**“Pardon?”**

“I go by Cassie.”

**“Mmm, yes, well… Cassie, I will not be lifting your curse, no, I would never hear the end of it from Wekono. I will, however, reverse your curse… There is a war going on, no? Yes, I believe the Magistrate and Resistance war has just begun in this timeline, very well. For the duration of the war, your curse is reversed: you are free to travel the Realm and fight where you please, when you please.”**

“What’s the price?” Cassie folded her arms.

**“There are three. First, you must leave now. You may not return home to wish your goodbyes, and you must be out of Greenwood by sundown.**

**Second, you may not return to Greenwood for the duration of the war, even if the war enters Greenwood. After the war ends, you may enter and exit Greenwood as you please.”**

“And the third price?” Cassie asked.

The sandwich levitated out of the pouch again and landed on Seris’ lap.

“Help yourself.” Cassie rolled her eyes and moved to begin packing her camping things away.

**“I take this as a sign that you agree to the terms?”** Seris spoke through a mouthful of sandwich. Cassie paused and took a deep breath. “My father will worry, I know. But I need to help out, this war needs me. I’ll do this, I will help Valera save the Realm, and when Karne is defeated, my father will be so proud of me, he’ll know I can take care of myself. The Realm needs me, and-”

She was droning on and on about something or other related to heroism, Seris had stopped listening almost immediately, as distracted as she was digging through Cassie’s food pouch.

 

Long in the future, Seris was taking food from some flame-haired Mortal woman. Nyx could not and did not care. The “blind” Greco goddess of night was on a mission. She would not fall, no, she would defeat death itself. She had not survived the Smite just to be defeated by some Mortal.

She had researched the mask that her compaion had shown her… Nyx sighed with a slight smile on her face. Seris was such an immature pain at times, sometimes she just made Nyx so angry, but Nyx was very appreciative that her partner had been so kind- or foolish- as to tell Nyx of the goddess’ death. Nyx had tricked Seris so easily, she had no clue how easy it would be for Nyx to cheat her death. Nyx whispered to herself quietly of how she simply  _ must _ treat Seris for this. That, however, would wait. For now, Nyx had a death to prevent.

 


	6. Chapter 6: The Curse of a God

Ishmael took a deep breath of the frigid air, his eyes scanning the snow-covered horizon. The Winter Witch’s trail of icy destruction had led him deep into the mountains of the Frozen North of Everfrost, the spiraling mountains of Crosswind Hold. These ice scapes were different from the ones of the Frontier, the Northern most lands of the Realm and Ishmael’s homeland. What ever had led the Winter Witch to these lands must be powerful, and if that power landed in the hands of a woman so evil, so dark-hearted… Ishmael shuddered to think of the consequences.  
The trail was getting warmer and warmer, everywhere Ishmael walked, his sensor crystals picked up magical energy. There was a witch near here, of this he was certain, and by the trail of animals and plants frozen solid, Ishmael could guess which one.  
As distracted by the trail ahead, he did not notice small tendrils snaking their way to his ankles, until the dark snake-like limbs had grasped him by his legs and began to hoist him into the air. Ishmael panicked and clutched for his Crystal Rifle, but the weapon was yanked from his hands by another tendril. Darkness clouded his vision, blocking his sight from the snowy fields around him. His throat was clogged from the billowy shadows, and he began to choke.Something emerged from the darkness, the slender, tall form of a pale skinned woman. The woman was dressed in the darkness, which fit around her thin form into a smooth, royal blue gown. The woman wore a low hat that covered her eyes and displayed a crown of feathers behind her head. Her silver-white hair was curled close to her head, and twin trails of hair streamed out from behind her. This woman possessed powerful magic, but she was no witch.  
“What do you want?” Ishmael snarled.  
The woman clasped her hands together before her gently, before cocking her head and responding, **“Perhaps a gentler tone, mortal.”**  
Ishmael did not respond.  
The woman shook her head, her feather crown rustling, **“Never bother, I always forget how… lacking mortals are in courtesy. A lost jewel, the tactic has found itself. Regardless, your services are required.”**  
“A witch you want killed?” Ishmael snapped, “Very well. And my payment?”  
The woman huffed, **“As if your life was not value enough? Tsk, I miss the days when mortals-”**  
“Enough.” Ishmael cut her off, “If you want something, tell me.”  
The woman pouted slightly, before flicking a hand in annoyance and continuing, **“A witch, I need a witch killed. A shadow witch, and you will find her by her mask.”**  
Between the two, a shape appeared. A white mask adorned with green crystal eyes and black horns.  
**“Destroy the witch, destroy her creations, destroy everything she has and loves.”**

 

 

The journey was not a long one, the neighboring city of Frozenguard.  
Children darted to and fro, paying little mind to the freezing weather. Small cries of joy and surprise filled the air, along with the pitter-patter of tiny booted feet. Some game of chase, many of the children played, although who was “It”, Ishmael was not sure any of the children knew.  
He sat on a small wooden bench clicking metal into metal. The snow drifted here and there, wetting his hair and cooling his face, sprinkling into his ebony beard and melting in his sharp breath.  
He selected another metal piece from the case beside him and snapped it into place on his creation.  
He glanced up, his violet eyes surveying the children. There were seven names in his mind, seven cold names. He recited them to himself in his head as he stood, flicking the switch under his creation. The twin arms snapped into place, the band between them connecting to the crystal dart in the sheath of the rifle. He repeated the list of names in a silent whisper as his thoughts drowned out.  
“Kostya.”  
The rifle felt heavy in his hands, but his mind felt empty. Nyx’s temporary curse, to be assured that he would obey.  
“Nikolai.”  
The dart fired from the rifle. The sound of children playing, laughing, died instantly.  
“Tamryn.”  
Screams again, but not of joy. Pitter-pattering feet, but not of play.  
“Ivania.”  
As each dart snapped out, another was pushed in its place, ready to fire, only to be sent out a second later.  
“Androxus.”  
He should feel something, he knew he should. Nyx had wanted to make sure that nothing would stop him. His emotions were gone, his morals were gone, she had promised him that she would restore them when the deed was done.  
“Eibhlyn.”  
Adults were noticing, running in, scooping up panicked children. Ishmael’s amarok growled when one adult turned toward it and it’s master.  
“Maximilian.”  
The playground was all but empty now. Seven bodies lay crumpled on the ground, the snow around them stained scarlet. Ishmael stood and approached the children, surveying them. Faces rushed through his mind, images that Nyx had granted him to find the children. Only five of the children’s faces matched the images in his mind. Two of them had escaped and Ishmael could only assume they were with his final target, their mother.  
He marched through the snowdrifts, his amarok following close behind.

 

The shadows cried out in terror.  
Evanthia crumbled to the ground, her hands clutched to her mask and the screams deafened her. Something was very, very wrong.  
The Shadow Witch recited incantation after incantation under her breath, trying to quiet the enraged and terrified energies, but they would not obey her. She collapsed as the energy drained from her body, as the shadow magic refused to listen to her. She allowed the drift of weakness to consume her, knowing that fighting would be pointless. There was nothing for her now but to wait for the shadows to calm down so she could help them.  
Her lull of weakness was interrupted as she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. A pair of children made their way across the hall to her, a panicked look on their faces. The look of her children’s horror brought Evanthia new strength, and the Witch pushed herself off of the ground and held out her arms to her children. The five-year-old boy, Androxus, collapsed into his mother's arms, wailing as tears streamed down his face. The four-year-old Eibhlyn was only several seconds away from following her brother, when a crystal erupted through her chest. The girl collapsed to the ground. Evanthia shrieked and shoved Androxus behind her as she looked up at the newcomer.  
Approaching after the children was a tall man with jet black hair and blank, violet eyes. Evanthia sensed the magical energy surrounding this man: a curse. Reasoning with him would be useless.  
The shadows swirled around her, lifting her into the air. Her long, curly ebony hair flicked and bounced from behind her head, and the burn in her equally dark eyes was barely hidden by the emerald lenses in her mask.  
Tendrils of shadow lashed out at the Witch Hunter, catching him before he had a chance to respond. They surrounded him, blocking him from the light. As soon as she was sure he was securely trapped, the tendrils began to tighten, with the intention to crush until there was nothing left to crush.

Ishmael struggled in the grasp of the shadow magic. He could barely move his rifle, and he felt the shadowy tendrils threaten to snap one of the arms of the rifle, along with Ishmael’s body. He pulled against the magic, trying to reach the crystal that was loaded in the rifle’s sheath. His fingers brushed on the crystal’s cold surface, before coming loose from the rifle into his hand. He locked his fingers around it and used every bit of energy he had to thrust the crystal into the tendrils. The tendrils exploded around him as the crystal’s magic draining power took effect.  
He collapsed to the hard ground and rolled back onto his feet in one breath. The Witch had her back turned toward him as she knelt over the dying body of her daughter. Ishmael could hear soft cries from behind the witch’s skull-shaped mask. He knew something was wrong, he should be feeling something, yet what, he had trouble remembering.  
He raised his rifle again. The witch raised her masked face. Emotionless violet eyes met green crystal lenses.  
The crystal loosed from its sheath.  
Lady Evanthia, Shadow Witch of the North, collapsed on to the body of the dead child.  
Ishmael turned and walked away. The deed was done.

But if his quest was complete, why did his senses of mercy, regret, and peace not return to him?  
Why did his curse remain?

 

\-----------------------------

Seris rolled on to her back on the bed, an arm cocked under her head. Her “blind” eyes stared ahead blankly. Her breath was quick and short, slowing down now.  
Beside her, Nyx sat up against her pillow and lit a pipe, before taking a long drag. Both women remained silent for a few moments, before Nyx turned to Seris, the goddesses, equally “blind” silver eyes trailing the oracle’s resting form, **“Oh, Seris, I have good news.”**  
**“Do you now?”** Seris did not face her partner.  
**“I have found out your riddle, how clever I am.”** Nyx smirked. She placed her pipe on the bedside table before rolling over to Seris. She rested her chin on her right hand and sat up on the pillow with it, before touching Seris’ neck with her left index finger. **“I have found out your riddle, this ‘Frozenguard’ and shattering and all.”**  
Seris chuckled, **“I really don’t think you have Nyx, it was a very cunning riddle I told you. But tell me, what have you found?”**  
Nyx’s finger traced down Seris’ neck, collarbone, and chest, before her hand rested on Seris’ stomach, **“Lady Evanthia Frozenguard, the Shadow Witch. She could have killed me… how unfortunate that a Witch Hunter caught wind of her and brought her demise. How unfortunate.”** She teased.  
Seris smiled, still not facing Nyx. Seris’ plan had begun. Her hand trailed across her own body, moving slowly over the deep bruise on her hip, a romp too rough, cries of declination and pain ignored. Seris would be rid of all of this very soon, and Nyx had fallen right into her trap. She rested her hand on Nyx’s, before whispering,  
**“How unfortunate indeed.”**


End file.
